


colour, colour

by OfMythsAndMen



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 12:40:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfMythsAndMen/pseuds/OfMythsAndMen
Summary: Aziraphale doesn’t pay him too much attention, not until Crowley calls out his name.“Let me paint your nails,” the demon says as Aziraphale puts down his book. “It’ll be fun.”crowley uses a nail varnish shade other than black.





	colour, colour

Crowley has been painting his fingernails for as long as Aziraphale can remember. He does it once a week, spending a good half an hour in the bathroom every Sunday evening with his bottle of black nail varnish. It doesn’t make much sense to Aziraphale; what’s the point? All Crowley gets is weird looks from people (although he guesses that that’s nothing new). Maybe the odd compliment here and there, but he can get those from Aziraphale whenever he wants, so the angel doesn’t really understand the big fuss.

But it's something that the demon keeps doing, week after week, so it must be of somewhat importance to him. Aziraphale just doesn't get it.

Besides, the fumes give him headaches. That’s why Crowley’s banished to the bathroom to do it, with all of the windows open.

He’s curled up on their bed one Sunday night, gripped in a particularly good book, when Crowley emerges from the bathroom and stands in the doorway. Aziraphale doesn’t pay him too much attention, not until Crowley calls out his name.

“Let me paint your nails,” the demon says as Aziraphale puts down his book. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know...” Aziraphale starts, but he trails off when Crowley starts to pout. “Crowley, you know that I don’t like to—“

“You don’t have to wear it out,” Crowley says, leaning against the doorframe. “You can take it off tomorrow morning before you go to the bookshop. Hell, you can even take it off tonight before we go to bed if you want. I just want to know what you’ll look like with it on. I think it’ll be adorable.”

“I don’t know...” Aziraphale repeats, but one glance up at Crowley changed his mind and he reluctantly gets up, following his boyfriend into the bathroom. He has to give it to Crowley; the demon is very good at giving puppy dog eyes, and Aziraphale is very bad at resisting them.

He sits down on a small stool that Crowley drags in, resting his hands on a tiny fold-out table that Crowley bought just for the purpose of doing his nails. Aziraphale finds himself smiling at the various black streaks where his boyfriend had obviously missed.

“I’m better now,” Crowley laughs when he catches Aziraphale looking. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it _mostly_ on your nails.”

“You’d better,” Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. “Crowley, do you even both to clean it up when you get it on the table? I’m sure it wouldn’t stain if you just—“

“I mean it’s not as if anyone else is going to see the table,” Crowley shrugs. “I just don’t see the point in cleaning up when it’s only going to get messy again.”

They’ve had the same argument about their bedroom a million times (and Crowley’s habit of leaving his clothes right next to the hamper, claiming that it doesn’t matter because they’re pretty much in the same spot and Aziraphale still knows that they’re dirty), and it’s not one that Aziraphale wants to repeat, so he drops the subject. It is Crowley’s table, after all, his special dedicated nail painting table, so it’s not as if anyone else is going to see it. Besides, it's better this table than the porcelain of the sink or the top of their dresser.

“I haven’t done mine yet,” Crowley says, heading over to the plastic draws he’d bought for his various bottles of nail varnish—all in the same shade of black of course. “I know you don’t like the fumes, so I figured you could go first and then get the Hell out of here before I paint mine.”

“Thanks,” Aziraphale smiles. For a demon, his boyfriend could be quite thoughtful when it came down to it.

“And I also thought that you wouldn’t really appreciate the shades I already have,” he says, and Aziraphale has to try not to laugh at the use of shades. When Crowley opens the draws, there’s not any difference between any of the bottles besides their labelling. “So I bought one specifically for you.”

He places a white bottle of nail varnish on the table. “It matches your hair,” he winks.

Aziraphale laughs, and Crowley takes a seat opposite him. He unscrews the cap, and gets to work.

It’s a very delicate process; careful strokes as Crowley builds up the layers. Any attempt that Aziraphale makes at conversations is quickly shut down by Crowley telling him that he needs to focus, and so the pair of them sit in silence.

Aziraphale watches his boyfriend fondly. He’s never seen him so focused, or so gentle, and it makes the butterflies in Aziraphale’s stomach flare up again, like they did when the pair of them were younger, when Aziraphale was first acknowledging his feelings towards the demon.

“I just need to put on the top coat now and you’re done,” Crowley says, standing up. It jolts Aziraphale out of his thoughts, and he’s suddenly aware of the headache starting. Nothing he can’t push through for Crowley. He can take a few painkillers once his boyfriend is done.

Crowley sits back down, a bottle of clear nail varnish in front of him. He’s just as careful, but Aziraphale is grateful that this takes less time.

And once it’s done, he admires his boyfriend’s handiwork. It does look good, he has to admit, and Crowley was right; the shade does match his hair. He doesn’t know what he was so afraid of. Despite the headache, nothing had gone wrong. It wasn’t as if he’s drenched in nail varnish right now or their bath mat was stained black (or white, he supposes now) as he’d half expected to happen.

“I like it,” Aziraphale smiles. “And I think I’ll keep it on for tomorrow, too.”

Crowley presses a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s lips. “See, I know what I’m doing,” he says, and Aziraphale moves to enter their bedroom again and sort out his headache. “Be careful not to smudge it whilst it’s drying,” Crowley warns. “Or else I’ll have to do it again.”

“I’ll try my best,” Aziraphale nods. “Now hurry up and do your own. I want to be going to bed soon. The bookshop isn’t going to open itself at 8AM, after all.”

“Your wish is my command,” Crowley bows, closing the bathroom door. “Go take a painkiller and lie down. I’ll be in soon.”

So that’s what Aziraphale does.

The next morning, when a teen girl dragged into the bookshop by her grandma compliments his nail varnish, he and Crowley share a glance.

“Thanks,” Aziraphale says to her. “It’s a new thing I’m trying out. I'm glad you like it.”

**Author's Note:**

> my first work in this fandom! i hope you enjoy it <3  
tumblr: [ of-myths-and-men](https://of-myths-and-men.tumblr.com/)


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